What Will Be
by abletotry
Summary: Harry goes into the future and is shocked to find that he and his rival have become lovers. His experiences in 2004 are shown alongside those of 1996 onwards, after he returns from the future without his memory and he and Draco fall in love. HPDM
1. Questionably Drunk

**Title - **What Will Be

**Summary - **Harry goes into the future and is shocked to find that he and his rival have become lovers. His experiences in 2004 are shown alongside those of 1996 onwards, after he returns from the future without his memory and he and Draco fall in love.

**Pairings - **Harry x Draco with side pairings mostly canonical except for Ginny x Seamus.

**Notes - **I'd like to make this clear from the first chapter – both the Harry in 2004 and the Harry in 1996 are the same person, sixteen years old and simply dealing with different scenarios. In 2004 Harry wakes up to find that he is in his own body as a twenty-four year old, with a life he didn't expect. In 1996 Harry wakes up, having returned from the future but with no memory of anything that happened there. The 2004 part covers a few weeks in May, but the 1996 part covers all the years leading up to that point. It will make several jumps but they should all be explained. So you get to see Harry puzzling over everything that he sees in the future, and then get to see how it actually happened in the past. It might sound tricky but it's a very simple idea. I hope you like it! You know the drill, review and I both update sooner _and _love you.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_October, 1996_

Harry didn't think he was drunk, but he stumbled when he tried to avoid a girl who hadn't seen him as he made his way through the crowded Gryffindor common room. Someone grabbed his elbow to balance him, but let go when he waved them off. He'd done things a lot harder than walk across a room when he'd had a little too much to drink.

Around him people laughed and talked loudly with each other. Someone was playing music on the other side of the room but it couldn't match their volume. Some people were dancing to it, clumsily and excitedly, while others watched on and laughed. Seamus and a red-faced Neville were jumping around, trying to get other people to join in. They weren't entirely unsuccessful.

There were Gryffindor banners sweeping around over their heads, lions roaring powerfully and letters flashing like neon signs. The lights that usually hung around the room seemed brighter, although Harry wasn't sure now if that was thanks to the Firewhiskey he'd been drinking. Whoever had set them up was probably also responsible for the food that moved around the room. It was all unhealthy, of course, and temptingly throwable.

Ron gestured at him to come over and join him in playing a game of Exploding Snap. When he was distracted a card burst into flame behind him, and the people sitting around laughed madly. Harry gave him an apologetic smile, signalling to the dorms. Ron nodded and went back to his game, saying something to Dean when he saw that he'd scored another point.

The stairs to boy's dormitories were just as crowded as the common room had been. Harry pushed past some chattering people, who shouted congratulations as he went by. He nodded at them absently and gripped the railing of the staircase tightly. Fred and Angelina were kissing rather passionately at the top of the stairs, and Fred raised an eyebrow at him and moved to the side. Harry grinned at him in reply and headed down to his room.

He was starting to get a headache. The party had been great, wilder than any of the ones they'd had in the past. It was to celebrate Gryffindor's win in Quidditch, but at this point the parties were happening every other week and for whatever reason was going. The last one had been for Seamus' birthday, the one before because two third-years had started going out, the one before that he couldn't even remember. They got crazier every time.

It was a way to relieve stress and just feel good about something, when it looked like any day now they could be caught up in the Second Wizarding War. Among all the smiles and friendliness that people had for him there were looks of pity. The future of Britain depended on Harry, and he wasn't even out of school yet.

He fell onto his bed with a groan. The room was empty and he could still hear everything that was going on downstairs, even with the door closed. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his face with his hand, already regretting taking the Firewhiskey that Harold had offered him. It wasn't as if nearly everything else wasn't spiked, anyway. They kept the Butterbeer clean for the younger years but anything else was fair game. That was how these parties worked. If you didn't like it, you went to bed and got to laugh at everyone who was tired and hung-over the next day.

Running his hands through his hair briskly, Harry decided not to think too much about what he regretted. He got up and changed quickly into some pyjamas, slipping under the covers and closing the curtain around his bed. There was too much to think about, anyway.

A vision of Sirius flashed through his head and he pushed it away. Even Firewhiskey wasn't enough to make him waste his thoughts on something he couldn't change. Harry wasn't drunk enough – wasn't drunk at all, he didn't think. Not that he'd had much alcohol before to know.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling himself drifting into unconsciousness even as cards exploded and music played and people talked downstairs...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_May, 2004_

It was far too bright. Harry was certain he'd closed the curtain when he'd gone to bed last night. Unless he actually _had _been drunk, and too drunk to admit that he was. Or Seamus or Ron had already gotten up and thought it would be funny – it woke him up before he was ready, and they knew he hated that.

Scrunching up his eyes, he reached out a hand, hoping with the desperation of someone who's just woken up that the curtain would meet it and he could pull it closed without too much bother. No luck. Harry made a noise of frustration and pulled his blanket half over his head. Maybe he could ignore it and get a few more minutes of sleep this way.

He heard a door open and someone rush through the room. A chest creaked open and Harry could hear things being pulled out of it and then thrown down somewhere, and then it creaked shut again. Whoever it was, they were being far louder than was necessary, and louder than Harry could take in silence. "Gods, do you have to be so loud!" he said, irritated.

The person laughed. It was Harry's first clue that something wasn't quite right. The second was when they stepped over to his bed and kissed the top of his hair. "I know you don't like it. But I was hoping you'd wake up to say goodbye before I head off to work."

Harry froze.

It was a man's voice, and too deep and measured to belong to any of the sixteen-year-olds he shared a room with at Hogwarts. It was affectionate, like the kiss had been, the way Molly and Arthur sometimes spoke to each other when he visited the Burrow. Harry hoped briefly that he had been mistaken for someone else – after all, he was mostly hidden under the blanket – before he realised that the man had heard his voice and hadn't been surprised by it.

The voice was oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Maybe it belonged to one of the seventh-years he'd talked to in passing. Maybe he'd been too drunk to recognise his own room and was in someone else's bed. That made sense. But no, what he had said didn't. Work? Was it a Prefect?

Harry's heart was starting to beat faster in his chest, and he opened his eyes slowly for fear that they'd show him something he really didn't want to see. They adjusted quickly to the darkness under the blanket, and he realised that if this was a bed in Hogwarts it was an awfully wide one. Maybe, he thought weakly, being a Prefect had certain benefits?

It was foolish of him to cling to an idea just because it was safer, and Harry knew it. Unless he'd somehow ended up in a teacher's room, a teacher he hadn't had before, this wasn't Hogwarts. And really he was somewhat grateful for that. To think that he'd slept with a professor – in whatever sense – would be terrifying.

The person had moved away from the bed. He could hear the rustle of fabrics and figured he must be getting dressed. _Oh Merlin, what have I done?_ No! If he wasn't at Hogwarts it wasn't likely that he, Harry Potter, had done anything. The parties may be fairly wild, but he didn't see how they could get him into Hogsmeade or wherever else.

The rustling stopped and Harry figured he must be dressed. "Don't go back to sleep," the man said, sounding both amused and a little sad that Harry might do that. "Come on. Say goodbye to me properly."

Harry froze for the second time as recognition hit him.

_Oh shit, oh no, this can't be happening to me, it really can't, how did I get here and do..._that. _I couldn't have. He must have drugged me, I don't know how. And why does he sound like that? I can't be here, no, no I can't, oh shit what's happening? _Before he lost the nerve to do it, Harry sat up, pushing the blanket forcefully down.

And he stared, horrified, at Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy who looked at the same time _like _Draco Malfoy and not like him. His hair was longer, down to his collarbone and pushed roughly behind one ear. His shoulders were broader, if only slightly, the line of his jaw was sharper and his features seemed softer. His eyes were wide as he looked back at Harry, looking more blue than silver. He looked like Malfoy probably would if he were a few years older.

He seemed taller, too, and Harry saw now that he'd gotten it wrong. He hadn't finished getting dressed; all he had on were some boxers and a white dress shirt. It was thankfully already buttoned and the Malfoy-lookalike had threaded a tie through the collar.

He was bent over slightly for whatever reason and his hair fell past his ear on the side where it wasn't tucked away. His hands were at his neck, midway through tying the tie there and fixing his collar. Harry tried to avoid looking down his bare legs, but couldn't, and saw that he was wearing white socks. That seemed a little odd, to put your socks on before you'd even put on your trousers. But then, it wasn't the strangest thing Harry was noticing right now.

The man blinked at him and then went back to doing his tie, his hands moving while his curious eyes stayed on Harry. "Are you alright, Harry?"

_Fuck. Now I can't even hope that this is a mistake. _"Uhh..." He wasn't sure what he could say, since he had no idea what was going on. The man tilted his head slightly, concern in his expression. "I'm...fine. Thanks."

"If you say so," the man shrugged. Buttoning up his collar he moved to pick up his trousers, which were resting neatly on a chair.

His initial shock out of the way, Harry noticed the room that he was in. It was rectangular and slightly curved, with the bed against one of the smaller walls and small tables on either side. The ceiling was quite high and a window that faced the bed on the adjacent wall was responsible for the light that had woken Harry up.

He couldn't see any others, just lots of bookshelves and chairs and odd pieces of furniture, all in the same dark wood. There was a fireplace in the middle of them, and several doors. Pictures hung on one part of the wall and a mirror and some odd-looking things on another. There were several rugs on the already carpeted floor. Nearly everything was a deep red. Basically it looked like a carefully organised mess.

It was a nice room, the kind of thing Harry would have chosen for himself if he ever had a place of his own. He wasn't sure he would have wanted quite so many books, or to have the fireplace _precisely _there, or that awful looking statue over in the corner, but it was nice. Comfortable.

At least it would have been if it didn't have Malfoy in it, or someone who looked rather frighteningly like him.

The man in question glanced at him every now and then as he finished getting dressed. Harry became conscious that his mouth was open and closed it quickly. This made the man smile, strange person that he was, and focus on pulling on his shoes.

"You should take a look at today's _Daily Prophet_," he said conversationally. "Skeeter's been getting up to some wicked things. Ah, but I know you won't get out of bed for hours yet. Here." He picked up a newspaper from another of the chairs and tossed it to Harry.

Harry didn't care much to read the paper right now, not when he might well be trapped in some twisted plot by Death Eaters to get him out of the way. Or maybe Fred and George had suddenly gotten much more elaborate in their pranks. Or a spell had gone wrong. Or he was still sleeping. They were all possibilities that he was very willing to consider at present.

The man gestured at him to take a look at it, and Harry sighed. He held both sides of the paper and flicked once to get the creases out. On the front page was a photograph of some people on brooms, but he didn't get to the article explaining it before his eyes settled on the date.

_Tuesday, 11__th__ of May, 2004_

Harry gaped at that for several moments, before he realised that he wasn't alone and shut his mouth so quickly that he could hear his teeth clack against each other. It wasn't May, it was October, Harry knew that, everyone knew that. May would mean it was spring, with flowers growing and more classes outside. No, it was October. Just the other day the ceiling of the Great Hall had been dark and gloomy.

And it wasn't 2004, it was 1996, they weren't even in the same millennium. And it wasn't Tuesday, either, but Saturday, or everyone would have been far too exhausted from the party last night to do well in their classes.

It was Tuesday, 11th of May, 2004. Harry had come forward in time.

"The news must be _really_ interesting, for you to be looking at it like that," the man said now, laughter in his eyes. Harry looked at him, properly this time. Oh gods, this was Malfoy. It wasn't someone who looked like him, it was actually Malfoy. And it looked rather like they were living together.

"Yes," Harry said quickly. Too quickly, but he brushed that off. "Definitely. You know how I like Quidditch..." _Oh gods, why do I have to say it, I shouldn't have to say it! _"...Draco."

"Of course I do," the man – Malfoy! – said pleasantly. "No one could have gone to Hogwarts with you and not seen that. Now, I'm late to work. I'd love to stay longer, but I'm afraid I lingered too long in bed this morning as it was, so I'll head off in a few minutes." He looked at Harry, and there was glint of _something _in his eyes, but Harry didn't know what it was. "Can I have my goodbye before I go? Now that you're up and all."

Harry wondered if he looked as stricken as he felt. "Uhh..."

"I know you're going to want to sleep all day when I'm gone, Harry," Malfoy went on as if he hadn't said anything. Which he supposed he really hadn't. "And I know you're on holiday for the next couple of weeks from your job as an Auror. But if I come home at around five and find that you haven't so much as gotten dressed, I'm going to be very disappointed."

What he had said was incredibly informative, and Harry would have been suspicious if he weren't so grateful. _Auror. Malfoy comes back at five. Get dressed. Well, that should have been obvious._

"If you're still in bed by then, I just might have to join you," Malfoy said, sounding as though he were joking but his eyes were serious enough that Harry resolved to get up and get dressed as soon as he possibly could. He stepped over to the bed and crouched beside Harry.

Harry really had no clue what he was meant to do. He hated Malfoy. At least, he hated the one that he knew. This older Malfoy seemed different. Although that could have rather a lot to do with the fact that he and Harry were apparently shagging. He stared rather stupidly as the other man came closer.

Malfoy studied him for several long moments, and then leaned forward, his eyes on Harry's mouth. "I'll miss you," he said softly, kissing Harry instead on the cheek and undoubtedly hearing his sigh of relief. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

"I-" Harry spoke without thinking about it, and broke off. "I won't," he said finally. That seemed to be enough for Malfoy, who touched his shoulder lightly and stood up.

"Alright. I suppose you won't be too bored on your own. You _have_ managed for the last few days. You've got the paper to read, and there are some books Hermione left for you in the living room. I don't think anyone will be stopping by today, but if you want to make some calls the Floo powder is-" he stopped and smiled at Harry. "Well, you know where it is."

With that Malfoy picked up his things, a light robe that he wasn't wearing yet, a briefcase and a book from one of the piles of them lying about near the chairs. He stepped over to the fireplace and pulled some powder out of the pouch hanging above it, giving Harry a wave before he tossed it in. "I'll see you later. Ministry of Magic!" he said and stepped into the flames, disappearing.

Harry thought he could be forgiven for being completely and totally bewildered.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_October, 1996_

It was a dark room that Harry found himself in when he opened his eyes. It took a moment for them to adjust, but he soon saw that he was in the infirmary. His head ached painfully, and he pressed a hand to it as he slowly sat up.

It must be night time. He could see stars through one of the windows and enjoyed them for a brief moment before looking about himself. He couldn't remember how he had gotten here.

_Let's see. I got drunk at the party – and I can deny it all I want, but that's what happened – and went to bed. _He remembered that much, easily. But somehow he felt as though there were more, something that came after that that he needed to remember. Harry tried but found that he simply couldn't. He didn't know what he wanted to remember in the first place.

For all he knew, whatever it had been was what had gotten him in here to begin with. He hoped rather desperately that he hadn't made a fool of himself when he'd been drinking. It was the most likely possibility; the other was that the party had found its way upstairs and he'd gotten caught somehow in the middle of it. He hoped that hadn't happened either. The professors usually looked away as long as the mess was gone in the morning, and no one got hurt.

A crashing sound came from across the room. "Ah, shit!" a muffled voice accompanied it. Harry thought he could hear whatever it was that had fallen being picked up and put carefully back into place. He had done the same thing enough times when sneaking around that it was very familiar to him.

As was the faint sound of measured footsteps, and of someone trying not to cry out when they bumped into one of the infirmary beds. Harry wondered if he were ever that obvious under his Invisibility Cloak. _Gods, that would be unfortunate._

He sat up fully, resting his back against the headboard. It was rather entertaining to watch the figure come closer to his bed, clearly not realising that he had woken someone up. He wasn't worried; if this was a Death Eater it was a very young and clumsy one. It was far more likely to be someone visiting an injured friend after hours. Maybe even Harry, although he'd be surprised. It clearly wasn't Ron and he didn't think the others would be reckless enough to try it.

The moment when the figure came close enough to see him, just watching it, was so funny that Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing, although he did so quietly. The person stiffened, and then moved closer to look at him, and then stiffened again.

"Potter! Shut up!" he said furiously.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, too amused to be mistrustful just yet, although he was sure that would be coming in the next minute or so.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake..." Malfoy muttered, and cast _Lumos._ His features were shadowed but much clearer than they had been a few moments before. He was scowling, no surprise there.

"Hey! You shouldn't be doing that kind of magic here, it will-"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're the only one in here right now, Potter. No one else was stupid enough to get as drunk as you did."

"I did?" Harry said, confused.

"You drank enough to keep you unconscious for three days, I heard," Malfoy explained. He smirked, suddenly. "Pomfrey ran all kinds of tests on you, to check for poisoning and the like. She should have done one for stupidity."

"Sneaking into the infirmary at night isn't the smartest thing to do either, Malfoy," Harry pointed out. Yes, there it was. The mistrustfulness and anger that Malfoy's presence usually inspired in him.

"Tell anyone I was here, Potter, and I'll hex you so badly you'll be in here another week," Malfoy said with narrowed eyes.

"Try that and I'll make sure you join me," Harry shot back.

They spent a minute in simmering silence, glaring hatefully at each other until Harry thought he'd made his point and spoke again. "What exactly are you doing here, anyway?"

"As if I'd tell you, Potter."

"I'm sure it's not to see me, and if I'm the only one here, what are you doing in here?" he asked again.

"Of course it's to see you, Potter. I just can't go a day without seeing your pretty face."

Harry folded his arms. "No, really. What's going on, Malfoy." Malfoy seemed reluctant to tell him anything, so Harry made him a deal. That, he figured, he'd be more comfortable with. "If you tell me what you're doing here, I won't tell anyone that I found you here in the first place."

The other boy sighed. "All right!" he said loudly, and then looked away as if embarrassed. "We were practicing some spells down in the dungeons. Vince got a...a _hex_ wrong and now Greg's walking around deaf in one ear. I thought I could fix it but I couldn't – shut up, Potter!"

Harry simply laughed harder when Malfoy turned red. "No, no, I'm sorry! I just...I can really see that happening. It's just...very funny...!"

Malfoy scowled at him again. "_Anyway, _we found a potion that should fix it up but one of the ingredients is Goosegrass. We couldn't find any, and I figured there'd be some in the infirmary somewhere. That's what I'm looking for."

"You couldn't just get some from Snape?" Harry asked, surprised.

"We're not his favourites, like everyone seems to think, Potter," his scowl deepened. "Professor Snape would have punished us just like anyone else once he found out about our ineptitude."

Harry didn't agree, but knew better than to say so. "Admitting a flaw, are we? I never thought I'd hear it."

Malfoy hit him and he rubbed his shoulder. It hadn't really hurt and Malfoy very well knew it, but he was damn well going to milk it anyway. "You're not going to hear it again if you keep that up."

"So I might, as long as I don't tease you? Why, Malfoy, I think we're becoming friends. Ow!" This time it did hurt, and Harry shot him a glare.

"Try again, Potter. And keep it to reality this time." Malfoy's eyes wandered around the infirmary, probably looking for anything that might hold potion ingredients.

All the injuries Harry had sustained over the years meant that he was all too familiar with this room, as well as several attached to it. "The Goosegrass should be over in that cabinet there," he waved to it with his free hand, the other clutching his faintly throbbing shoulder. "Don't take too much, and definitely don't take anything else. Pomfrey will notice, but if it's just a small amount she might be willing to let it go."

Under the light coming from Malfoy's wand it looked as though the boy gave Harry a grateful look, but he dismissed that as impossible. He might have helped him now, but they had always been rivals. It wouldn't take a couple of blades of Goosegrass to change that. "Of course. I was just going to look over there, actually."

Harry snorted. "Of course."

Malfoy went over and searched the cabinet for the ingredient, wrapping it up carefully in a handkerchief when he did. Harry expected him to leave once he'd gotten what he'd came for, but to his surprise he came back over to Harry's bedside, pulling a chair over and sitting on it.

Harry stared at him.

"Oh, wipe that look off your face, Potter. You scare the girls away enough already." That certainly _sounded _like Malfoy. But this couldn't be Malfoy. Malfoy did not just sit at his bed when he was in the infirmary. That was for Ron and Hermione and Seamus and Fred and George and Neville and all the other people who cared about him to do. And Malfoy certainly didn't. Care about him, that is.

They sat in silence for a little while before Malfoy broke it. "You're a complete idiot, you know, getting drunk like that. Because of you they've banned alcohol on school grounds. Set up spells that detect it and Vanish it immediately and everything."

"Urgh...sorry," Harry said, and he was. He didn't enjoy drinking exactly, but it relieved a lot of tensions that he couldn't get rid of otherwise. Now not only he but everyone else would be feeling them until another Hogsmeade weekend came around.

"Mother sent me some chocolates with liqueur filling this morning, and as soon as I opened it they just disappeared out of my hands. Very annoying," Malfoy said, as if talking about his day with Harry Potter was the most natural thing in the world.

"That would be," Harry acknowledged. "But I'm sure you've got piles of sweets hidden away in your room somewhere." The boy's sweet tooth wasn't a secret, and he received treats from his mother more often than Harry drank pumpkin juice.

Malfoy chuckled, and Harry became certain that this was some bizarre fictional world he'd found himself in, and not the one he knew and...well, _liked_.

"Of course you'd know about that, Potter. You've probably snuck into the Slytherin dungeons more than enough times." At least his words sounded normal, although they did lack the usual bite.

"Once or twice," Harry admitted. If Malfoy could tell him he'd gotten something wrong, then sit down and laugh with him, then he could bloody well at least be honest with the guy. "It's not the easiest thing in the world. And to be honest, there's not much down there."

"Are you sure we just aren't much too secretive for you? You think there's nothing going on, but in truth the Slytherins are working so sneakily you haven't even realised?"

"No, well no, really, but I meant that there's not much down there full stop. Not much furniture, not much noise. Even the Ravenclaws speak over each other sometimes." It was lonely. Harry didn't go down there very often because he didn't like how empty it felt.

Malfoy was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "You're right. I hate it down there sometimes."

Harry was stunned at the admission. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything at all.

"It's empty. Gryffindors get excited about everything, Ravenclaws probably screech like their namesake when someone gets their N.E.W.T.s and Hufflepuffs..." Malfoy's face scrunched up in distaste. "Hufflepuffs probably pass out from excitement when someone casts a spell successfully. Slytherins, we...we don't do that. We don't have friends. If we do, we hide it as much as we can. It's empty."

"What about Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry breathed out finally.

"Merlin's beard, they're different aren't they? Their families have been allied to the Malfoys for generations. If we didn't act friendly _that _would be strange," Malfoy explained impatiently.

"Oh." _I can understand that, I guess. It's so different with them than it is with me and Ron and Hermione. I chose to spend my time with them, become friends with them. They did the same. How must it be to _inherit _your relationships? _"Just as well," he said as cheerfully as he could manage. "I thought you _wanted_ to hang out with people who could turn you half-deaf at any second. It's a compliment to you."

It was a poor joke, and one that Malfoy could easily take the wrong way, but he laughed and Harry was glad for it. "Well. I _know_ that you want to hang out with a girl who beats you in everything and a boy with hair so red it could catch fire and no one would notice."

They were better chosen words than Harry's had been. Malfoy was capable of things far more insulting – but he managed to keep the tone light by joking about Ron and Hermione's human attributes, not their social ones. For the first time Harry was seeing the pureblood etiquette that Malfoy always boasted about.

Harry smiled at Malfoy, and Malfoy smiled back. Even under the dim light of the _Lumos _spell, he could see that clearly. They held each other's gaze for a few intense seconds before Malfoy's eyes dropped away.

"Why did you sit down, Malfoy?" Harry asked, annoyed at how soft his voice became. "It can't have been for my stimulating conversation."

"I'm keeping you company, you git," Malfoy said surprisingly easily. He stretched his arms out over Harry and his legs did the same at the base of the chair. "You've been asleep for three days. There's no way you're getting back to sleep quickly after that."

"Oh. What's the time?"

"Past three," Malfoy answered without bothering to check. "I'll have to get back to my room before five. Blaise is a fucking annoying early riser."

"Yeah, I get that with Dean," Harry said sympathetically. "He tries to be nice about it but everyone can hear him when he takes a shower. I wish there was some kind of reverse silencing spell."

Malfoy's eyes brightened. "You know, that's an interesting idea Potter. I'll look into that."

"Let me know if you find anything," Harry said, and Malfoy nodded.

"It wouldn't be so bad if Blaise didn't insist on waking the rest of us up with him. He calls it a service, I call him a menace. Do I _need _to be up and dressed before the sun's even come up? No. We just end up sitting around waiting for breakfast to start. It's painful," Malfoy complained. Harry found that it wasn't at all hard to listen to him. There was a novelty in hearing your long-time rival talk about the things that bothered him. "I am _not _a morning person. In the slightest."

"Neither am I, really. I only manage to get up in time for breakfast because Hermione found a spell a while back that simulates being drenched in cold water. She taught it to Ron, who's under express orders to use it on me if I sleep past seven-thirty."

Malfoy looked instantly interested. "Do you know it?" he asked.

"Why, would you like to learn?"

Malfoy nodded furiously. Harry was sure he was going to regret this later, but in the least the guy deserved to get his own on Blaise after what he'd heard. "Alright. The incantation is _'Madidus tergium' _and you need to move you wand in a kind of circular movement...no, not like that. Try making the circle smaller and then...right. Then flick at the end."

He leaned over to grip Malfoy's wand hand to show him the movements, and then released his hand, nodding approvingly when they were repeated back to him. Malfoy was a quick learner. Well, that shouldn't really surprise him.

"Can I try it on you?" Malfoy asked, a little too eagerly.

Harry eyed the wand, which was still emanating light. "Uhh...can you see why I'm not particularly keen on that idea?"

"Oh, come on Potter. Where's the Gryffindor bravery," Malfoy attempted to coerce him. "Besides, it's best that I test this before I use it on Blaise. If anything goes wrong I'll have hell to pay. Or I'll look like a fool." He said that as if being embarrassed would be worse. But then, in Slytherin it probably was.

Harry sighed. He _was _already in the infirmary... And really, what had he expected when Malfoy had pulled up a chair to sit beside him. At least he'd asked first.

"Alright," he said, and resisted the urge to scrunch his eyes up tightly. He wouldn't actually be soaked in water, just feel as though he was. It would be better for Malfoy to see how the spell affected him.

Malfoy sat up straight, and pointed his wand at Harry. He almost shivered, remembering all the times it had been used to cast hexes at him. But the expression on Malfoy's face was so different now – amused and excited, but not malicious – that he couldn't feel the same way he had in the past.

"Okay, try it," he said and braced himself.

"_Madidus tergium_," Malfoy uttered, then laughed in delight when Harry scrunched up his eyes and hunched over, feeling the chill of invisible water as it ran through his hair and down his body. He actually shivered this time, and looked at Malfoy as he ran a hand over his face and folded his arms.

"G-good job," Harry told him around clattering teeth. "It s-should wear off in a f-few m-moments."

It did, and Harry unfolded his arms, enjoying the moment when warmth washed over him and he felt dry again. He smiled at Malfoy, who looked thrilled. He didn't know how happy he was about that.

"That was wonderful! Merlin, Blaise is never getting me up early again!" Malfoy practically cheered. His eyes were bright and there was no trace of his usual scowl to be seen. Harry thought he looked very different. Good different. He should smile like this more often.

"That went for a bit longer than Hermione or Ron's usually do. So I think there's an element of control in that – if you want it to be short and to the point, you can probably will it to be so," Harry said.

"Really? Useful. I should thank Granger for this."

"I think she'd have a heart attack if you did," Harry said, only half-joking. She'd be both shocked and pleased if Malfoy said anything to her about this, but he really didn't want her to find out he'd taught the spell to Malfoy of all people.

"All the more reason to."

Harry tensed. Malfoy hadn't spoken spitefully, and actually looked ashamed at his slip when he caught it, but it had reminded him that the friendly chat he'd been having was with one of his dearest rivals. Last week Malfoy had sabotaged his potion in class and Snape had taken twenty points from Gryffindor.

There'd been animosity between them since Harry refused his offer of friendship in first year. It was sixth year now, and the animosity had been there up until Malfoy had taken that seat near his bed and they'd talked about – of all things – how much they hated getting up early and Malfoy's dissatisfaction with Slytherin. It was bizarre.

Yet strangely comfortable.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said quickly.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured him.

"No, I'm really sorry. It's a habit, I guess," Malfoy appeared to berate himself for a moment. "Which doesn't make it any better! I know. I'm sorry."

This was undeniably bizarre. It wasn't that Malfoy appeared to be a different person; he just appeared to be the same person he'd always been, acting differently. He spoke differently, more casually, let his emotions show honestly on his face. Harry wondered if this would have been the Malfoy he'd known if they'd become friends all those years ago.

"That's okay," Harry said. His voice was doing that soft thing again, but he decided to ignore it. "No hard feelings."

Malfoy looked relieved, and he smiled at Harry. "Good. I'll have to thank her now, and let her know I'll put that spell to good use."

"You know how much that will sound like a threat."

"Of course I do. I have to keep up appearances." Malfoy raised his nose slightly in pride that Harry didn't think was entirely feigned. "You can set her straight, though. If you want."

"She's going to want to know who taught you the spell in the first place," Harry pointed out. "Just see that you use it properly. I want to hear all kinds of stories about Blaise dancing around in the dungeons. It'll brighten up my day."

"How are you not a Slytherin?" Malfoy asked, somewhat in wonder. "No, don't say anything. You're far too foolish to be in my glorious House. You'd throw yourself into every fight someone started with you, and call it bravery."

"And you know me so well?"

"It's the business of a person to know his rival, or he'd never come out on top," Malfoy said. There was that half-fake haughtiness again.

Harry glanced at the window he'd looked through earlier, and noticed that the sky was getting lighter. "What's the time?" he asked.

Malfoy looked confused for a moment, and then caught himself. He pulled out an old-fashioned watch from underneath his robes. It was gold but Harry couldn't see much more than that, under the weak light of the _Lumos_ spell. It was attached to a fine golden chain that travelled back into Malfoy's robes.

The other boy moved a few things around on the face of the watch, so fast that Harry imagined he had done it countless times before. "Almost four-thirty. Damn, I should get back to the dorms."

"I'm happy that you sound so reluctant," Harry joked.

Malfoy gave him an odd look. "You should be. You're surprisingly good company, Potter."

He stood up and pushed his chair back, either not seeing or ignoring Harry's astonished expression. Slipping the watch back into his robes, Malfoy nodded at Harry. "I'll see you around, Potter. Don't be surprised if I hex you when I do."

"Right. Uh, you too," Harry replied, a little dazed.

It was when Malfoy walked away from his bed, the light from his wand preventing him from bumping into anything, that it actually registered that he was leaving. "Malfoy," Harry called, quietly but loud enough to make Malfoy stop and turn with a patient expression on his face. "Thanks...for keeping me company."

Harry couldn't see his face, but the way he said his words of reply expressed enough of what he was feeling.

"That's alright."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **I'll always include an explanation of any spells that I make up for the story. In this one it's _Madidus tergium. _It comes from the Latin 'madidus' meaning 'wet' or 'soaked', and 'tergum' meaning 'skin'. It has the effect of making the victim feel as though they have been drenched in freezing water.


	2. Friendly Interrogation

_May, 2004_

It took Harry about twenty minutes and a great deal of willpower to get out of the bed he'd woken up in. It was more comfortable than any he'd slept in before. The blankets were thick and deceptively light, and they made a satisfying sound whenever they moved that Harry was very pleased with. They were patterned simply in blue.

The pillows weren't just exquisitely soft but also blatantly mismatched. There were four or five of them resting against the headboard, all in different colours and shapes. The one on what Harry had already figured to be Malfoy's side of the bed was striped green and white, and small in size. It looked faded which surprised Harry. Malfoy had always struck him as the kind inclined to luxury.

Another pillow was velvet and a dark red matching the rest of the room. A pale yellow pillow sat beside it, shorter but much longer. Harry lifted his head to see what his own looked like. It was rather large and when he pressed his hand against it it seemed to sink into the pillow. That amused him for a few minutes before he picked it up and flung it away from the bed in an effort to remove the distraction.

He threw a black square pillow after it so that it wouldn't distract him either, and the yellow pillow just because the colour annoyed him. Harry leant back against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling.

"2004..." he muttered. The millennium had come and gone and he hadn't been around for it. He'd grown up, gotten old enough to move in with someone. Maybe not the _right _someone but that wasn't the point. "Seven years. It's been seven years and I have no idea what's happened."

Had he defeated Voldemort? Malfoy had said that he worked as an Auror. That didn't mean much; he could have taken the job to help him in the war effort. But wait – he wasn't just an Auror, he was an Auror on holiday. Voldemort was gone, then. Harry felt relief wash over him, so intense that he closed his eyes.

It was mixed with uncertainty and fear but he tried to push those feelings aside. Uncertainty because it was hard enough to believe that he'd travelled in time somehow, and believing that in this world Voldemort was gone was even harder than that. Fear because some part of him was convinced that none of this was real, and in fact just a rather vivid dream he was having while he lay in his bed in Gryffindor Tower.

Harry didn't think that his subconscious would pair him off with Malfoy, though. It was some small reassurance that he wasn't just imagining all of this.

He let out a noise of frustration and got out of the bed. He had to get dressed and have found his way around...wherever he was before Malfoy came back. There was the paper to read and a small library to browse through to give him some hints about what he'd missed. Harry had to admit he was also very curious about the doors in the room.

Figuring the chest Malfoy had used earlier was a safe bet, Harry stepped over to it, noticing as he did that the fire was still going in the fireplace. It didn't seem to warm up the room the way he would have expected. It was probably magical. Maybe they never put it out.

The chest was silver and engraved with thick lines. It looked old, but practically sprung open when Harry put his hands on it, startling him slightly. He leaned over the open chest, trying to peer inside. It was deep. Much too deep for it to be anything but enchanted. Reaching a hand inside, he could feel it brushing against fabric. Harry pulled out his hand and stared at the chest, irritated.

It had taken Malfoy seconds to get his clothes from this chest and close it again. Although he knew it wasn't intentional, Harry felt briefly annoyed at Malfoy for leaving him here without any idea of how to use it.

An idea came to him suddenly and he looked around for his wand. It was resting on a bedside table, and he grabbed it and marched over to the chest. Opening it, he pointed his wand inside and put out his left hand, ready to catch what came out. "_Accio _robes," he said confidently.

Material peeked out and Harry was about to reach for it, when it exploded out of the chest. Dozens of robes of all different colours and styles flew out, creating an arc of clothing which he was able to gawk at for a moment before it landed on him, sending him to the ground. He had the sense to hold tightly onto his wand or it might have been knocked out of his hand in the impact.

"Shit, what a mess..." he cursed, muffled by a deep green robe over his face. Deciding it couldn't hurt at this point, he pointed his wand to where he thought the chest should be and cast again. "_Accio _shirt, _Accio _trousers, _Accio _underwear..."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Several hours later Harry had washed and dressed, taking his pick of the dozens of outfits that had been lying on the floor when he'd fought his way out from under them. He'd chosen a t-shirt and jeans, deciding to forego the robes in favour of something he was more accustomed to.

Then he'd pushed the clothes wherever he could – behind chairs and bookshelves, under the bed. They were obviously hidden but if you walked into the room without really looking there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Harry planned to deal with them later. If Malfoy thought it was strange – well, it was his house too. He thought. He wasn't sure.

Now Harry was stretched out in front of the fire, reading a book on the Second Wizarding War and trying to pay attention to it when he really wanted to go and explore the world that he'd found himself in. He'd walked around the house, noting where everything was in case Malfoy expected him to do something, but thought catching up with what had happened was more important.

If this was the future, then maybe he was meant to come here and find out how to defeat Voldemort in his own time. If it was the invention of someone who had captured him, Harry might be able to find something to use against them. So he tried very hard to focus on his book, and not get distracted by the photograph of he and Malfoy kissing he'd seen on one of the shelves.

It didn't help that by now he was feeling very hungry. Harry could eat when Malfoy came back. He had to study now, and besides he didn't have much faith in his cooking ability. Setting fire to the kitchen would be harder to deal with than making the floor their wardrobe.

A clock ticked on another of the shelves and Harry kept glancing at it, telling himself that it was to be expected that he would look forward to Malfoy coming home. He was the only person Harry had seen in this time after all, and he knew his way around the house. He might have answers and be able to cook something more advanced than toast.

His stomach grumbled again and Harry made a sound of frustration. He resisted the urge to throw the book like he'd thrown the pillows and get up and Floo over to the Ministry, demand to see Malfoy and then demand that he come home right away and sort things out. That was _definitely_ not a good idea.

Harry tipped his head back and rested the book face-down on his stomach. He sighed and closed his eyes. _This is so boring. I travel to the future and less happens here than ever happened back in my time. At least when I had a day off then I had friends to spend it with. Hermione and Ron, when they weren't staring at each other and forgetting I was there. Seamus and Dean and Neville to hang around with in the dorm. Those stupid parties with everyone..._

He'd wondered what had happened to his friends. If he and Malfoy were together maybe Hermione had stopped pining after Ron to get with Lavender and Ron had turned to..._I don't know. Snape or someone? _He was keeping a decidedly open mind.

Harry felt himself begin to doze off and let it happen, shifting slightly so that he was more comfortable and letting one hand brush against the floor. It would be a good way to pass the time, and he didn't know how much sleep he'd be getting sharing a bed with Malfoy. Nothing he was reading had stuck in his mind, anyway.

Someone stumbled out of the fireplace and he opened one eye to look at them. Ron. Not important. He was waiting for Malfoy. He waved him off half-heartedly and closed his eyes again.

"He certainly seems to be acting normally," Ron said to someone else who was brushing their robes down loudly enough for Harry to hear and feel annoyed at. Harry glanced at them, and nodded to himself.

"I like your haircut, Hermione," he said sleepily. "Now you can you both bloody go somewhere else? I've had a rough day."

"Thanks, Harry. I'm glad you noticed it, even if a _certain someone_ couldn't manage to."

"But it looks the same! I mean, uhh, it's lovely and I'm so sorry I didn't realise..." Ron stumbled.

"You will be," came Hermione's short reply. Malfoy chuckled and Harry smiled at the sound.

It took a full ten seconds of Hermione and Ron bickering before it occurred to him what was wrong with this picture and his eyes snapped open. He tensed and the three people standing in front of the fireplace fell silent, watching him.

Like Malfoy had, his two closest friends looked much like themselves and didn't at the same time. Ron was even taller, if it was possible, but had filled out a bit more and didn't look quite so awkward. His robes fit him well and Harry guessed that they were more expensive than all of his old clothes combined. His hair was shorter but still the same familiar red, and his features were more even. He looked more serious than the Ron he knew ever had.

Hermione hadn't grown much and she looked small next to Ron. Her hair was shorter, still curly but not as wild as he remembered. She'd become very beautiful, her face more defined and her eyes gentle but striking in the way they always had been. Her robes were more elaborate than Ron's, and she had several emblems embossed into the right side of it at her chest. A few flickered and changed but most appeared to be common stitching.

Malfoy, of course, looked the same as he had that morning. The only difference was that he was now wearing the robes he'd tucked under his arm as he'd rushed out. They made his eyes appear more silver. He was good-looking, sure, but Harry would have been happier to find that he'd ended up with a girl that wasn't quite attractive but that he loved. He would have been even happier if Malfoy hadn't become good-looking at all. It wasn't fair.

When he'd come to this time everything had changed except his memory. Harry had gotten quite a shock when he'd walked into the bathroom and caught sight of himself in a mirror. He was taller, broader, _older_-looking than he'd been at sixteen. His hair was more obedient than it had been, which probably had something to do with the countless hair products Harry had found in the bathroom cupboard. He didn't wear glasses anymore, except to read. The scar was the same and that was some small comfort.

Harry of the future was fit and tanned, presumably from his job as an Auror, and altogether more attractive than Harry of the past would have expected of himself. But it was nothing on Malfoy and that bothered him to no end.

"I told you I expected you not to spend the day in bed, Harry," Malfoy said now, kneeling down beside his chair. "But I didn't think you'd get up just to sleep again on a chair."

He smiled gently at Harry and then kissed his cheek. Harry bore it as nobly as a Gryffindor would, but couldn't pretend to appreciate it. Malfoy stood up again and offered him a hand. "Come on. I'll go get dinner started and we can talk in the kitchen."

"Right...yeah. Talk in the kitchen," Ron said oddly.

"Oh, for God's sake Ron, close your mouth and start moving. I don't know about you, but I happen to be hungry," Hermione said sternly. She took his hand and Ron smiled at her with fondness.

Harry stared at them for a moment before he realised what he was doing, and took Malfoy's hand and allowed him to help him up. Malfoy released it as soon as he was standing, which Harry was grateful for. Then he moved forward to lead them through a door. Harry figured he was just being a good host, since Ron and Hermione clearly knew where they were going.

The door was attached to a hallway, which was curved like the walls of the room had been. Harry felt out of place here, more so than anywhere else, because there were so many photographs on the walls that he couldn't avoid seeing the life he shared with Malfoy. There were also a couple of portraits that Harry hadn't brought himself to talk to. Portraits could be cruel, and they were most likely all members of Malfoy's family and probably didn't like him.

The hallway had stairs leading up to an unusually clean attic and down to the kitchen and living space. Everything curved around the living room, which was the largest in the house. The second floor opened up to it, so you could stand up here and wave down to someone downstairs. From where he stood Harry could see the room, wide and welcoming.

Every part of the house was a different colour. Their room was red, the hallway was blue, several other rooms set aside for guests were green and yellow and the attic was grey. Harry hadn't expected that a house he shared with Malfoy would be so colourful. It wasn't luxurious either, despite being filled with luxurious things. It was a home, not just a house. That had surprised him.

_What did you expect, really? It's your house too. You never wanted to take all your money and buy a lonely mansion somewhere. You always wanted this, a place that felt comfortable and vibrant-_

But in truth that was what surprised him. Harry could see himself here. And Malfoy was a part of it.

In the future they might be happy.

"So what would you like to eat, Harry? I can't imagine you've gotten yourself anything. We both know who the better cook is," Malfoy said lightly. While Harry had been thinking they'd come down to the kitchen.

He blinked and Ron gave him an odd look, stopping when Hermione pinched him and he turned to her to complain. "Uhh...what can you manage?"

"Anything you ask for, Harry, I'm sure of it." Malfoy placed his hands on the kitchen bench and waited for his answer with a hint of intensity in his eyes.

They were all tense, all waiting on Harry to do something or say something strange, he realised. He'd lucked out with Hermione earlier, mistaking her new appearance as a change in hairstyle when he was half-asleep. He needed to keep it up. He couldn't explain what had happened to him until he worked out what that was, and until then Harry just needed to act as if everything were normal.

"Spaghetti," he said finally. It was his favourite food, and Harry didn't think that would have changed in the future. When Malfoy smiled and Ron stopped trying to stare at him he knew he'd given the right answer.

"Of course. I can have that ready in about...half an hour?" Malfoy began to move around the kitchen, pulling out the things that he'd need.

"Do you want any help? We can always go and talk in the living room while we wait," Hermione offered.

Malfoy shook his head quickly. "No. You can stay here and I can talk with you all. It'll keep me from getting bored. Pull up a stool," he said and gestured at the seats.

Harry sat down and rested his elbows on the bench. Hermione sat beside him and Ron sat next to her, pulling his chair so that they were close. They didn't say anything and just watched Harry until he began to feel awkward.

"It occurred to me today that you haven't seen Hermione and Ron since your break started. I see them every day with work, but I wondered if you weren't missing them at all. So I invited them over to have dinner with us," Malfoy told him, pulling out a chopping board and some tomatoes.

Ron leaned forward and Hermione elbowed him, while everyone pretended not to notice. "Of course," Harry said. And then waited for someone else to speak. Which no one did.

Somewhere another clock was ticking, and along with the sounds that Malfoy made as he cut up the tomatoes and opened up a packet of mince that was all that Harry could hear. The others stayed completely silent, and Harry resisted the urge to fidget nervously.

"So," he said finally. "How was work today, Draco?"

"I knew it," Hermione said loudly. Malfoy abruptly stopped preparing the food and put down what he was holding. Ron just kept staring at Harry.

"Now do you believe me?" Malfoy asked her, and she nodded.

"You'll understand that it's not the easiest thing to believe," she said in reply.

Harry waited for them to tell him what was going on. Had he slipped up somehow? Were they going to assume he was someone else using Polyjuice and stick him in a room until he didn't change back? What had he gotten wrong? He'd been rather pleased with how natural he'd made saying Malfoy's name sound. It had taken a lot of practice.

"What day is it, Harry?" Hermione asked him. He sighed inwardly with relief. They were giving him a chance to answer their questions and prove that he was actually who he said he was. If he was careful, he could show them he was really his twenty-four year old adult Auror self.

"Tuesday," he answered.

"And what's the date?"

"The eleventh of May."

"Why are you here?"

"I live here," Harry let some of his surprise show in his voice.

"Where do you live?" Hermione persisted.

"Hogsmeade." Thank Merlin he'd gone outside and checked the mailbox.

"And with whom do you live?"

"Mal- Draco." Harry corrected himself, but he knew Hermione hadn't missed his slip. Her eyes had widened slightly, and she continued to question him.

"Why do you live together?"

"We're dating," Harry wasn't sure of that himself, as it wasn't something conveniently written on mailboxes. Any mail they got was probably sent by owl, and the mailbox had been empty. He couldn't check the way they were addressed to work out what their relationship was.

"Not quite," Malfoy said with a rueful smile.

"Keep out of this please Draco, just for a little while," Hermione told him. "What do you do, Harry?"

"I'm an Auror."

"What does Ron do?" Behind her Ron jerked at the mention of his name.

"He works at the Ministry," was all Harry could say.

"We already know that you know that, Harry," Hermione said kindly. Somehow that worried Harry more than her sternness had. "What does he do?"

"Something that he'd like to think is more important than it is," he tried. Malfoy seemed to find that amusing, but Hermione didn't.

"How did you defeat Voldemort?" she asked now, her eyes intensely serious.

"A good deal of skill and my incredible good looks," Harry answered. He winced inwardly. It wasn't something to make light of, but at the moment this was his only option. He could only hope they hadn't worked out exactly what was different about him.

"That would be your influence, Malfoy," Ron said, but his voice was friendly. He leaned forward and whispered in Hermione's ear, loud enough for Harry to hear. "Can I ask him some questions?"

She nodded and Harry relaxed. Ron wouldn't rake him over hot coals for the sake of getting an answer. And if his sense of humour was still the same, he could get away with answering jokingly.

Ron met his gaze. "Who was my first girlfriend?"

Harry blinked at that, but Hermione didn't look surprised. What were they testing him for? Maybe they thought he had amnesia, which would be easy enough to work with. But that question wasn't very intrusive – it wasn't even about him!

"Lavender Brown," he said finally. Padma Patil hardly counted; he'd only taken her to the Yule Ball in fourth year.

"Why did we break up?"

They hadn't broken up yet, but Ron had already started complaining about how much she smothered him. It wasn't a surprise to hear that the relationship had ended. "She was fairly intense," Harry said.

Ron didn't look happy with that answer, but it was good enough and he kept going. "Who was your least favourite professor in school?"

"Umbridge," Harry said without even thinking about it.

"How do you feel about Ginny?"

"Ginny?" Harry wasn't sure what she had to do with anything. Maybe something had happened to her in the war. He dearly hoped not. She stared at him a bit more than he was comfortable with, but he liked her well enough. "She's fine. Or," he hesitated. "She was in school."

Ron gave Hermione a look and asked him another question. "Who did you take with you to the Slug Club Christmas party?"

Harry tried to keep his expression neutral but didn't think he did a very good job of it. He'd already been approached to join Professor Slughorn's club, but didn't like the idea of it at all and came up with all kinds of excuses to get out of going to the meetings. Why would he go to a party? Unless...unless it was a trick question. He wouldn't put that beyond this older, serious Ron.

"No one," Harry said. "I didn't go."

Ron gave him a pitying look and leaned back into his seat. "He's sixteen, and halfway through sixth year at Hogwarts. That means...1996 and just a bit before Christmas."

"I thought so," Malfoy said quietly.

"How is that even possible?" Hermione breathed, staring at Harry as if his face could tell her.

"Shit," Harry whispered and stood up quickly, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He didn't know where he was going to go but he had to go somewhere...maybe to Hogwarts. He'd be safe there, he knew his way around, he could work everything out there and then maybe come back and explain it all before he went back to his own time. If he took his Invisibility Cloak everything should be fine...

"Harry!" Hermione called out after him. They were following him up the stairs and Harry went faster, until he was in the room he'd woken up in and trying to find his wand. It was in front of the fire, he'd used it as a bookmark. Because he was just that clever. He grabbed it and pulled out some of the clothes he'd pushed behind a pile of books, in case the Invisibility Cloak was in there somewhere, before he realised it was invisible...

He was about to cast _Accio _or just abandon it and Floo away when Malfoy burst into the room, followed by Ron and Hermione. He walked over to Harry, his hands out so that he could see that they were empty. He kept Harry's gaze the whole time, and when he was close enough, he reached out and hugged him.

And Harry cursed him for knowing that was exactly what he needed.

He wrapped his arms around Malfoy and buried his face in his shoulder. His hair smelled nice. Maybe that was why Harry had fallen in love with him. Because he must have, if they weren't dating and shared a house and a bed together. Harry sobbed, more air that he'd breathed out the wrong way than actual crying.

"Harry..." Hermione said from across the room.

"It's alright. We're not going to do anything," Malfoy reassured him. "We love you. I...I really do love you. I'm not going to hurt you. And these are your friends, you've had them since you were bloody eleven. We want to help you. That's why we asked those questions. I know you wouldn't have said anything otherwise. I know you, you git."

"That's a bit more familiar," Harry said into his shoulder. His hands curled into the back of Malfoy's shirt. "How in hell did we end up together, Malfoy?"

"It's the Malfoy charm," he said, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "Not even Harry Potter can resist it."

Harry had calmed down enough that he was ready to let go of him. He pushed at him slightly and he went without a fight. He looked around at them, Hermione looking like Molly Weasley in her concern and Ron's expression regretful but determined. "Shit," he said again, looking down at the floor and rubbing his forehead. "Now I know how you became an Auror."

Standing near him, Malfoy eyes fell on something behind Harry and he frowned. "Why are my clothes on the floor?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_October, 1996_

Harry knew he kept looking at Malfoy, but he couldn't manage to stop. Ever since that night in the infirmary a few days ago he'd been watching the other boy, trying to work out if it had been genuine or just another plot so elaborate Harry hadn't seen it yet.

From the dark looks Blaise had been sending him, he'd put that spell Harry had taught him to good use. Hermione didn't appear to have found out about it yet. Harry was grateful for that, but it was another thing he didn't understand about Malfoy.

Unless he was wrong, Malfoy kept looking at him too. Every now and then their eyes would meet, and both would refuse to look away, as though it were another of their fights and looking away was losing. That would go on until someone spoke to one of them and they had to answer, or Harry needed to tend to his potion, or Malfoy needed to simper at another of their teachers.

It was a competition and Harry was used to that with Malfoy, but there wasn't the same maliciousness behind this that there was everything else. He couldn't explain it. So he hoped no one noticed and he wouldn't have to.

They were in a Potions class at present, and Professor Slughorn was ambling about the classroom in his usual way. Harry and Malfoy were able to hold each other's gaze for a full minute before Hermione spoke to him and he turned to her, ignoring the feeling of loss when he did. This would be almost impossible to explain. He didn't really understand it himself.

"Haven't you put the salamander blood in yet? Honestly, Harry. This potion isn't sensitive, it should be fine, but you should be paying a bit more attention," Hermione scolded.

She didn't appear to have noticed what he _had _been paying attention to, and as soon as she watched him stir in the blood she went over to her book to check again when the Lionfish spines were meant to added. Harry sighed at that, and again when he saw that Malfoy was busy with his own potion.

Spotting Goyle across the room, Harry wondered if they'd been able to make the potion and fix his hearing. He could test it innocently enough. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it surreptitiously at Goyle, muttering a spell that would make a sound go off in his right ear. The other boy paused and rubbed at his ear stupidly.

Harry grinned. So that ear was fine, now to try the other one... He wasn't sure which one Malfoy had said was affected. It wouldn't hurt to check anyway, Goyle wouldn't realise anything was wrong. If he did he could always attribute it to the potion that had healed him.

He muttered the same spell again, but flicked his wand in a slightly different way so the sound resounded in Goyle's left ear. This time the boy stopped and looked around him, before shrugging and rubbing at his ear.

Harry had barely managed to conceal a laugh when Malfoy grabbed his arm and dragged him off to one corner of the classroom. He hadn't noticed him walk over, but was glad for the chance to talk. Maybe he could work out what weird thing was between them now. Hermione gave him a concerned look but he waved for her to go on with the potion.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy hissed when they stopped.

"I'm brewing some Wiggenweld Potion, actually. What are you doing?" Harry said easily.

"Not that, you idiot. What are you messing around with Greg for?"

"Oh. I was just checking to see-" Malfoy grabbed his collar aggressively and for some reason Harry wanted to laugh, "-if his hearing was back to normal. Nothing else, really."

Malfoy studied him for a moment before releasing his collar. "You could have just asked me, Potter. Honestly. You didn't have to torment my friend in the middle of class."

Harry felt immediately sorry, but pushed it aside for the moment. "Could I?" he asked.

Malfoy gave him an odd look. "Yes," he said, as if it were obvious. "You certainly stare at me enough, it couldn't be any stranger us having a friendly conversation."

"Which we would be doing now, I suppose," Harry said with feigned nonchalance.

"I suppose." And then they did that staring thing they'd been doing since Harry had persuaded Madam Pomfrey that it was the alcohol that had knocked him out, and nothing more supernatural, and been allowed to return to the Gryffindor dormitories.

No one interrupted them this time, but after a while Malfoy faltered and looked at the ground. It made Harry feel vaguely triumphant. He wondered if maybe there was something wrong with him.

"Have you put the Mandrake in yet?" Malfoy asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Hermione wanted it put in with the mint, something about one offsetting the other..."

Malfoy scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense. The Mandrake should go in right at the end, just before the shredded dittany. Otherwise it will react with the wolfsbane and-"

"You've lost me," Harry interrupted.

"Of course I have," Malfoy sighed. "In simple terms, your potion is going to explode."

"What? No way. This is Hermione we're talking about."

"It is. How long ago did you add the Mandrake?" Malfoy crossed his arms.

"About ten minutes ago, I think..." Harry wasn't sure because, ironically, he'd been staring at the very person who was telling him his potion was going to explode too much to pay proper attention to brewing it.

"Then it will explode in the next ten minutes. You wait and see," Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

Harry glanced worriedly at his cauldron, bubbling away with Hermione reading intently beside it. "How do you know?"

"I've said it before, but you just don't get it. Snape didn't favour us and he certainly doesn't give preference to Slytherins. I just happen to be good at this class, Potter, the same way you're good at Charms and Longbottom is good at Herbology," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

Harry thought he was delusional, but that just reassured him that he might have gotten it wrong about his potion and it wouldn't explode like he'd said it would. "I didn't know you noticed me in Charms," and then, so it didn't sound weird, "Or Neville either."

"I needed to know what I was dealing with with you," Malfoy explained, "And if I didn't find anything to redeem Longbottom then I would have been forced to question a school that invited talentless idiots to study. I would have written home and asked Father to send me to Durmstrang instead, if he hadn't had the sense to show some skill in Herbology."

"'Talentless idiots'?" Harry said incredulously. "And what do you call the human gorilla over there?" He gestured at Goyle, who didn't so much as blink when pink smoke began rising from his cauldron.

"He's tied to my family. He'd go wherever I went. That's a matter of the school recognising pureblood customs, and not allowing him here on his own..._limited _merit," Malfoy replied stubbornly. "Besides, he's quite good at..." he floundered, and glared when Harry gave him a pointed look. "...being my friend."

Harry could protest that, after everything Malfoy had told him in the infirmary, but didn't. There wasn't any point in getting into another argument just now, and he didn't want to betray the other boy's trust. "Alright."

"It's been a few minutes now. Just a little while and you'll see that I'm right," Malfoy said, watching Harry's cauldron with an expression of amusement.

"I don't think so. Hermione knows what she's doing."

"Do you want to bet on it?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"How much?" He didn't have anything on him right now – why would he – but he knew he had about five galleons back in his room.

"A galleon." Malfoy's eyes sparkled.

"A galleon? Merlin, you're confident..."

"So were you, a second ago. Are you saying you're no longer convinced of Granger's superior ability?"

"Of course I am!" He wasn't really. "A galleon it is...no chance of making that a few sickles?"

Malfoy chuckled. "No way. Deal with the consequences of your actions, Potter."

They both stood and watched Hermione add the next ingredient to the cauldron, and take down some notes about the colour and consistency. They were silent for a while before Malfoy spoke again. "Shouldn't you be over there helping her, Potter? You're meant to be working together and all."

"There's no way I'm standing near that cauldron if it does explode, thank you." Malfoy chuckled again and Harry smiled appreciatively. "Shouldn't you be over there with Crabbe anyway? You're meant to be working together and all."

"Ugh, no. He's adding the Mandrake for me," Malfoy shuddered.

"If you're the potions expert, why don't you do it?"

"Are you kidding? Those things are awful. They look horrid and...and in second year, one of them bit me." He sounded so wounded that Harry couldn't help but laugh. "It's not funny! Anyway, I just don't like them."

"I agree that they're not the most pleasant looking things in the world. Or the most pleasant sounding," he added as an afterthought. "They make me uncomfortable, but they're not scary."

"I'm not scared of them! I just don't like them," Malfoy protested.

"Please. You 'just don't like them' enough to drag me over here and wait until you're sure that you won't have to look at one," Harry scoffed.

Malfoy shot him a glare. "No, I dragged you over here to tell you to stop messing around with Greg. And I'm staying here until you and Granger's potion explodes, and then I'll be hanging around you until you get me that galleon."

"I don't have one on me!"

"I meant what I said, Potter. I won't have you holding out on money that I've earned from you."

"Can the potion explode first, _and then _we discuss this?" Harry nearly shouted. For someone who constantly flaunted his family's wealth, Malfoy was being really miserly about this. Unless he just wanted an excuse to talk more with Harry...but he wasn't going to let himself think that.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but if he said anything it was drowned out by the sound of an explosion. Hermione cried out and managed to shield her face as murky green liquid burst out of Harry's cauldron, raining a full metre around the source. When it had stopped, several people started to cheer and Hermione conjured a towel to wipe her face with, huffing angrily.

Malfoy began to smirk and Harry shook a finger at him. "Oh no. Don't even start with me about this. Yes, you were right. Yes, the potion exploded. Yes, I owe you a galleon. I have some money in my room, but you're going to let me get it before pulling this triumphant act-"

"I don't know what you mean, Potter. Now clean Granger up and take me to Gryffindor Tower."

Harry gave him a look, asking if he was being serious. "...alright," he said finally and reluctantly.

He went to see if Hermione was okay, and Malfoy went back to see how his own potion was doing. Fortunately the potion wasn't damaging at all, and she seemed at least physically unaffected. From the way she was muttering curses and scowling at Harry, she was fine mentally as well. He helped her up, careful not to slip, and let Professor Slughorn try to cast some cleaning spells on her.

The potion hadn't been damaging, sure, but the force of the explosion had cracked the side of his cauldron. Harry closed his eyes. He was going to have to buy a new one. Which would be just that little bit harder now that he owed Malfoy a galleon.

Maybe he could get someone to open up the Potter vault at Gringotts and take out some galleons. Harry was careful with his money, and that meant not bringing more to school than he thought he might need. He hadn't factored in Hermione's ability to make the occasional, completely normal, mistake.

He wondered briefly if he should explain to her what she'd done wrong. Later, when she wasn't muttering angrily and trying to get potion out of her hair. And it might not be the best idea to tell her that Malfoy had been the one to point it out to him.

Harry pulled out his wand and got started on some cleaning spells, trying to work out how he'd get Malfoy into the Gryffindor common room without anyone noticing.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Notes - **If you're wondering how Ron managed to work out exactly what time Harry came from, then you should look at the questions he asked. Hermione was just asking random questions, probably more to satisfy her own curiosity or to make Harry come clean on his own more than anything else. Ron asked them logically. First he asked who his first girlfriend was - establishing that Harry was at least a sixth-year. Then he asked how they broke up. Harry should have mentioned either the necklace Lavender sent him, or the incident with the Invisibility Cloak. But he instead said that she was clingy, meaning that he probably wasn't from 1997.

Then he asked about his least favourite professor, probably trying to work out if Harry had been through everything with Snape yet - in which case he might say that he once hated Snape, but came to respect him. Instead he answered Umbridge, which is still correct but only shows that he was at least in sixth year. Harry hasn't dated Ginny yet or realised his feelings for her, which means he's in the first semester of sixth year, since he started really having feelings for her in the second. Finally Ron asked who he took to the Slug Club Christmas party, which he was pretty much forced into, and he took Luna. Harry said he didn't go. That narrowed it down to the time Ron said.

If there are any other questions, I plan to answer a few in the next chapter but please leave a review and ask them just in case I've missed anything! This story isn't perfect, since I've moved a couple of things around to suit me and overlooked others. But it's a story, yeah? Let me know if you're enjoying it. :)


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